


the water of the sea is dark

by ofscythia



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Golden Age of Piracy, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofscythia/pseuds/ofscythia
Summary: Yusuf reaches an imploring hand through the bars of his door, gesturing for the sailor to come closer. “My friend, please.” He says, tone measured. “Open the door. We won’t harm you.”The sailor glances between Yusuf and the ladder that would take him to safety, not making any move to reach for the keys hanging on his belt. The look in his eyes reminds Nicoló of that of a deer, frozen in the moment before it runs.If he leaves them down here, they’re doomed.Yusuf seems to know this truth and tries again, voice still soothing but urgent. “Please, hand me the key and everything will be fine.” He smiles, gentle as a lamb despite the water now flowing over his boots. “Pass the key over, please.”
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	the water of the sea is dark

**Author's Note:**

> Andy is forced to face some painful memories when she, Nicoló, and Yusuf are captured by the British Navy
> 
> I'm new to fic writing - comments much appreciated!
> 
> I'm @oldguarding on tumblr - shoot me a fic request!

Nicoló had grown to enjoy the particular pleasures that had come from his recent dabbles in piracy.

Andy had led the three of them south with the promise of riches and ease, a welcome respite from the previous centuries of seemingly-endless war on the European continent. A ship and crew had been easy to acquire and with Andy at the helm they had sailed their way through the chain of islands, stopping at every port they could find to drink and carouse and looting ships as they went.

The Caribbean Sea was different than any he'd sailed before; the sometimes-painfully blue was almost clear, colorful reefs and flashing fishes visible even from the deck. Nicoló reveled in the thrill of storming ships, the crack of pistols and the growl of cannons, and the lovely way that the hot sun turned Yusuf’s skin to burnished gold.

But their exploits had landed the three of them here, stuck in the brig of a British naval ship probably on their way to the nearest port town to be hanged. Nicoló is thankful they’re all being jailed together, able to mutter to each other in quiet Italian between the bars of their cells when their guard looks away. 

Nicoló had been dozing, head propped against the wall he shares with Andy, when his attention is caught by the sounds of yelling from the main deck, too faint to make out words but the tone clear even several decks away. Something’s wrong.

He turns his head and meets Andy’s eye, who cocks her head and listens with a frown. She opens her mouth to speak, but another sound rings out.

The unmistakable boom of a cannon sounding over open water.

The yelling above them grows louder, now gaining the attention of the guard stationed to watch over them. He rises from the chair he’s been sitting in, picking up the musket that he had left propped against the wall.

“That was close.” Andy says, rising to her feet with cautious grace. “Only a few hundred feet away.”

Nicoló nods in agreement, having grown used to the echo and roar of cannon fire. “An attack?"

“No talking!” The guard snaps, glaring at him as he walks past the door of his cell, moving closer to Yusuf’s door and the ladder that leads to the main deck. Another boom and the ship banks hard and fast to its port side, forcing Nicoló to grab onto the bars of his cell to keep standing and sending the sailor crashing into the bulkhead with a curse. Such an aggressive maneuver can mean only one thing, a fact that’s confirmed when Nicoló hears the answering volley of cannon fire being shot from the deck above them.

“Who’d be fool enough to fire on a British navy ship?” He asks, turning to Andy. In this part of the Caribbean, the English are the unparalleled masters. Most pirates wouldn’t dare attack one of their ship and the ones that did usually didn’t survive the attempt.

“The French, I’d wager.” Yusuf suggests, moving to lean against the door of his cell to speak to the sailor. “And as it happens, I speak French. If you’d be so kind as to unlock the cell, I could go check for you.”

His offer is ignored as the ship shutters under the impact of another volley of artillery, the sound of splintering wood mixing with the sudden roar of water rushing into the ship’s hold. The sailor gasps, running past Yusuf’s cell and down the ladder to the deck below them. He’s quick to return to their level, pants legs soaked with sea water.

Nicoló feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, dread coiling in his stomach at the sight. Whatever plans the three of them had on making their grand escape once they arrived at port have vanished and Nicoló begins to frantically kick at his door. The cell is too small for him to get much force into his strikes, his blows doing nothing but rattling the wood of the cell’s frame.

Meanwhile, Yusuf reaches an imploring hand through the bars of his door, gesturing for the sailor to come closer. “My friend, please.” He says, tone measured. “Open the door. We won’t harm you.”

The sailor glances between Yusuf and the ladder that would take him to safety, not making any move to reach for the keys hanging on his belt. The look in his eyes reminds Nicoló of that of a deer, frozen in the moment before it runs.

If he leaves them down here, they’re doomed.

Yusuf seems to know this truth and tries again, voice still soothing but urgent. “Please, hand me the key and everything will be fine.” He smiles, gentle as a lamb despite the water now flowing over his boots. “Pass the key over, please.”

Andy decides to offer her own encouragement, slamming her open palm against the bars. "Open the damn door, you bastard!"

The guard nods shakily, reaching down and pulling the cell keys off of his belt. He stays a gingerly step towards Yusuf’s door, but before he can unlock the cell, a shower of smoke and wooden shards consumes him. A cannonball blasts its way through the bulkhead of their deck, the force of it knocking Nicoló off his feet and into the water that was beginning to creep up his legs.

Dazed and ears ringing, Nicoló sputters on salt water and paws at the splinters embedded in his arms. The relatively small wounds heal with a slight sting, his skin pushing out the wood embedded into his skin. His hearing returns to him slowly, the painful hum fading into the sound of Yusuf’s frantic yelling.

“Nicoló, Andy - are you alright?”

“ _Si,_ _si._ ” He answers, rushing to get back to his feet. The cannonball had ripped across the side of the ship, bending the far bars of Nicoló’s cell out into the passageway. He pushes at them to try and widen the gap, but there’s no give in the metal.

“Andy?” Yusuf calls again, face pressed against the wall that he shares with her cell. “Are you hurt? Andromache!”

Nicoló turns towards her cell when he doesn’t hear her voice and what he sees frightens him almost as badly as the sight of the water rising around them. Andromache is frozen in place, her face gone pale. She’s backed herself up to the far wall of her cell and Nicoló is shocked to see that she’s trembling, unresponsive as Yusuf pleads with her to speak to him.

In all the centuries he’s spent with her, Nicoló has never seen Andromache like this. This woman who has faced down entire armies, died more times than either he or Yusuf could ever imagine, reduced to this state by water. He doesn't understand it, until he does.

Water.

Water rushing in, trapped in a metal cell with no hope to escape.

**Quynh.**

Of course.

The realization strikes him with painful clarity, the memory of her loss still fresh for the three of them even over a century later, though both he and Yusuf know that Quynh's absence had changed something irrevocable in Andy. And how could it not be? An eternity of drowning - a fate that almost seemed designed to twist the benefits of their strange gifts into torture. As the water in their cells begins to rise up Nicoló's legs, he knows the three of them are only mere moments away from being doomed to share Quynh's fate. 

Nicoló catches Yusuf’s gaze from between Andy’s cell and the understanding flows between them. Yusuf keeps calling to Andy and Nicoló turns to examine his only chance of escape. The newly-made gap between the bars and bulkhead is narrow, but weeks of lean rations might allow him the chance to slip through. Nicoló slides through feet first, twisting his body as he goes. It takes a sharp wrench of his shoulder in order to pass the last of himself through, Nicoló hissing in pain as the joint slides back into place with a painful tug.

Splashing down on the other side of the bars, Nicoló scrambles to think of a plan. The sailor is nowhere in sight and Nicoló reaches down into the knee-deep water and feels around for his body, hoping that he can at least pick the keys off of him. Instead, all he comes up with the musket.

Gun gripped in both hands, Nicoló turns his attention back to the cells. Andy still seems to be in shock, backed into the far corner she shares with Yusuf’s cell, who cuts his gaze between her face and the rising water as he speaks.

“Andy, Andy - it’s ok. We have you. We’ll get out. We’ll get you out.”

Spurred on, Nicoló rears the musket back and slams the butt into the hinge of Yusuf’s door with all his strength. The door jolts under the impact and the other man waves him away with his free hand, not willing to move from Andy’s side.

“No, not me! Andy-”

Nicoló shakes his head, hitting the door again and again. “I need you to get us a lifeboat.” He wants Andy out of the cell as badly as Yusuf does, but if they stand any chance of leaving this ship alive then one of them needs to be able to clear the deck above them. "Get it launched and we'll meet you in the water, yes?"

A final strike finally knocks the lock free and Yusuf rushes out of the cell, squeezing Nicoló shoulder as he races up the ladder to the main deck to secure their escape. A part of Nicoló fears for him, not knowing what the battle above them looks like, but he has absolute faith that his love will find them a safe way off the ship. In all the years he's known him, Yusuf has never let him down.

With Yusuf gone, he turns his attention to Andy. “Are you with me, boss?” He asks, trying to keep his tone light as he works to break her door open. She doesn’t answer, silently watching the water as it rises past her hips. Nicoló is beginning to struggle to keep his footing, the water flowing down the passageway and threatening to sweep him away with it.

He continues to strike at the lock on her door, mumbling a fast prayer as he goes. He has to get the door open, he has to, and when the lock finally gives under the force of his blows, Nicoló nearly weeps with relief. He pulls the door of Andy's cell open with a grunt, pushing the door against the current of the salt water rushing around him.

“Andromache, it's time to go!” He calls, keeping one hand wrapped around the door as he reaches a hand out towards her. She stares back at him with wide eyes, dark hair plastered to her face. If he didn’t know her better, he’d think that she was scared. Andy doesn't move, grip white-knuckle on the bars behind her. Nicoló can't let go of the door to grab her; losing his grip means he's washed down the passageway. 

"Andy, please" He pleads. “I need you to help me here, Captain.”

She blinks at him and then nods, sucking in a harsh inhale and reaching out to grab onto his forearm. Nicoló pulls her out of the cell, wrapping one arm around her waist as he lets the current of the water push them down the passageway and towards the ladder. Nicoló ushers Andy up the ladder first, following close behind her. The weight of the water rushing into the ship has made the vessel start to list over onto its starboard side, forcing them to brace themselves against the railing as they climb onto the main deck of the vessel. 

Squinting against the sun, Nicoló takes in the chaos around them. The deck is scattered with dead men and the splintered ruins of the ship's masts. Keeping a firm grip on Andy, he rushes them over to the side of the boat. Yusuf waves at them, floating a few yards away in a lifeboat. Nicoló turns to look at Andy, trying to figure out how to coax her off the ship if she can't bring herself to jump.

She brushes off his grip, the distant look in her eyes while she was in the cell has been replaced by a more familiar one, a hard, emotionless determination that is often the last thing her enemies see before meeting the sharp end of her axe. She climbs over the railing of the ship with ease and jumps, vanishes for a few brief moments before surfacing again, swimming over to Yusuf with strong strokes.

Nicoló follows after her once he sees her resurface, crashing feet-first into the sea. He kicks himself back to the surface, blinking water out of his eyes as he watches Yusuf pull Andy into the lifeboat. Nicoló swims towards them, accepting Yusuf’s offered arm and climbing into the boat.

He sighs in tired relief and shakes out the water in his hair, thankful that the three of them are safe again. Nicoló leans almost instinctively into the hand that cups the back of his neck, reaching behind him to brush his fingers across Yusuf arm before turning to face the other man. He can see the same relief he feels mirrored in Yusuf's gaze. Content to know that the two of them are well, Nicoló looks over at Andy.

She's lying on her back on the bottom of the lifeboat, one arm flung over her eyes. She's eerily silent, completely still except for the occasional shutter that wracks her frame. Nicoló wants to speak to her, to offer some kind of comfort, but he can't find the words. 

What could he possibly say? 

It had been one of the many hard-learned lesson of immortality, that for all the joys that their long lives allowed them to experience, it also compounded their sorrows. Nicoló has felt that added weight of loss and pain in the centuries he's lived; he cannot imagine what that burden must feel like for Andromache, who has seen millennia rise and fall around her. No, there were no words possible to soothe her pain.

Instead, Nicoló reaches out and rests a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. Yusuf does the same, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side of Andy's leg. Nicoló knows it's a small gesture, but one that he means with every bit of sincerity within him. He's died for this woman and would do so again, happily. She and Yusuf are his world now and he would do anything for them.

They float in silence for several minutes, the three of the them swaying gently as their boat drifts. The two of them stay close to Andy, who eventually lets out a heavy sigh and lifts her arm off her face. Andy looks up at the two of them, blue eyes misty. 

"Are the two of you alright?" She asks, voice rough with emotion.

"Fine, Andy" Nicoló assures her. "We all are."

She sighs, sitting up and regarding the two of them with a look heavy with the weight of all the centuries she's lived. Andy offers them a tired smile, laying her hand on top of theirs. 

"I just want the three of us to be safe." She tells them softly. "That's all I want."

That wish, the warmth of each other's hands stacked on top of each other, all the grief and triumph and horror they've shared with each other - makes Nicoló feel anchored and secure in their tiny boat, floating in a clear blue see that reminds him of Andy's eyes. He looks over at Yusuf, at Andy, and turns his palm around to grab onto her hand. 

"We have many more centuries to spend with each other, Andromache." 

Nicoló knows there are no words that can heal the past, but there are plenty that can drive them forward.


End file.
